"What's that vile creature doing 'ere?"

I glanced up from my knitting to see Doria scowling through the parted tent cloth.

"Who again?" I drawled, going back to my yellow chain crochette.

It was going be a scarf for Doria, an early commision for the coming Winter.

"Did you even hear anything?" I could feel Doria frown at me.

"No," I answered. "I'm busy as you can see. For you." I added pointedly.

Doria sighed and left the tent cloth, which was acting as a door, to sauntered toward me.

She plopped down on the padded red floor before me and grabbed the nearest colored cushion pillow within her reach. They were of many shades and sizes around this pentagonal-shaped room, including the largest and fluffiest cream one which I was currently using as my workstation.

"I know. You get lost when you crochet and don't care about the world. But I don't like this."

"My knitting?" My fingers worked faster, carefully keeping the mental count of my loops.

"That Blue! They're sittin' outside in our yard with the Coven Father!" Doria huffed and my fingers paused.

"Baba's with a Blue? Why?"

Those blue-blooded royals from Ravendale were never good news. They either turned their big noses down at us witches or fawned over our potions bottled in bear-skinned flasks and other goods with the will of paying below their worth. Double standard, I knew. But we had no choice. Ravendalian Blues held all the power here.

"I don't know but this can't be good." Doria looked away with a wary glance. "They've been there for an hour. Do you think they plan to cut off our wages? Ravendale has been reluctant to allow our potions through their borders for some time now. Esmarelda, we're barely surviving on rugs!"

I dropped the crochet and grabbed her hands. "Doria, Doria honey, calm down. Nobody's cutting wages. It must be something ordinary. They might even wish to expand our business."

Though I hardly believed my words, I needed to soothe my best friend's nerves more.

"It makes no sense!" Doria frowned harder. "Why trim our path if they planned to widen it in the end? No, Esma, I'm telling you that Blue-"

"Okay, which Blue it is then? The king or one of his sons?"

If this was the King Wardon then we had no hope. One way or another, it would be bad for us. He barely tolerated us at best, never even set a foot in our lands once, and always sent his older son Prince Vance to conduct his businesses. The latter wasn't much forgiving to us either but at least he understood the language of profit and was better at convincing his father about our deals.

"Prince," Doria twisted her lips. "The younger one."

I blinked. "Prince Terrence?"

Now, that was one prince I was the least familiar with. All I knew about him was that he rarely ventured out of his kingdom, always doing something with books and stuff.

"What business he has in our coven?" I asked.

"I'm wondering the same." Doria shrugged.

"Let's go see." I was already standing up and on the way tent entrance on my left.

"Oh, now you're interested leaving your station?" She said, her feet already thumping behind me.

I ignored her and stood behind the closed purple drape with golden threadwork, leaning closer to peek through the slitted gap.

The moonless night was pitch black outside. An orange fire crackled bright far ahead in the clearing. Moths floated around the spitting flames as two large wooden logs were placed before it, facing each other.

The left log sat our Coven Father. My baba. A thin man with a bald head and smooth bronze skin draped in his best long black tunic and the twisted hat of gold-threading. A symbol signaling his leadership of the Eastern Witch Coven.

On the right log, a taller man occupied the space draped in a gray fur cloak and white tunic suit of fine silk which filled out his lean form quite nicely, if I had to admit. His glossy dark hair was fluttering in the wind as he remained pin-straight in his posture, holding a brown flask of possibly our eggnog between his hands.

He and my father were talking in a quieter tone. Their voices barely wafted through the silent wind of the night, betraying nothing of the topic they discussed.

I looked around to find our warrior wizards standing guard in a neat circular formation, leaving a distance from the fire good enough to both provide privacy and jump in if an unsavory situation arose.

Other big tents of colors bordered both sides of the large yard, sheltering close and distant families of ours. And, of course, with more eyes peeking through them than I could count. I didn't blame them, though. We were of the same flock curious and wary of our stranger.

And the said stranger was now crossing his legs forward, sipping from the flask. A reserved relaxed state which contradicted with Baba's much stiffer form.

"What is it?" Doria asked, noticing the frown on my face.

"Baba's not happy," I answered, never looking away from the man. "Whatever they are discussing, it's not going well for us."

Doria clicked her tongue. "Those damn Blues. Why do they have to pester us with their pesky presence?"

"Careful. I heard they can stretch their hearing. Don't want to test the theory how far."

"As if I'm afraid of those feather-nosed dingbats. Just watch me turn this one into a frog." She scoffed, making me shake my head.

"You're scared of nothing. Don't forget to drop him in a pond afterward."

I felt Doria's smirk before I heard it. "Now you're talkin' my tongue."

As if on cue, Prince Terrence's blue eyes slid toward my tent and collided with mine.

My breath hitched and I moved away from the drapes, dragging Doria right behind me.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"I think he saw me." I gulped.

"So? There were many eyeing him from closed curtains. I'm sure he noticed them too."

"You don't understand. I saw his eyes. It was like he knew I was watching him."

"Which proves my point."

I huffed. "No! It was so... so calm and steady like he already knew who I was."

"All from a brief eye contact?" Doria smirked, raising her brows.

I closed my eyes with a sigh.

How could I make her understand what I felt in that second-long meet of eyes? How could I tell her the sense of foreboding I felt in my gut when he looked at me? How, when I myself wasn't sure this wasn't just a trick of my mind.

All I knew was that this was nothing good. I must raise my guard while Prince Terrence was here.

It was another thirty or so minutes when I heard a mild commotion outside.

"They're breaking off the meeting," Doria said, peeking through the drapes like a dutiful eavesdropper. "Coven Father is taking Blue away to one of the tents. The sky blue one beside Margherita's."

My hands wrangled each other as I stared hard at the half-crocheted scarf in my lap. My insides were curled in a twisty knot and they wouldn't unfurl until I heard what it was that Baba and that prince had discussed for so long.

I didn't have to wait that long, though. Doria flung away from the entrance and rushed to my side before collapsing on a pink cushion beside me just as the drapes parted wide.

Baba walked in with hunched shoulders and a grave face. His light gray eyes were steel when they met my wary ones.

"Esmarelda, ye are to marry Prince Terrence. Doria, make preparations."